Denial
by Skep
Summary: Sometimes the path is laid down long before you realise it.


Title: Denial  
Author: Skep  
Summary: Sometimes the path of denial is laid down long before you realise it...  
Disclaimer: They ain't mine.  
a/n: First slashfic. Kind of crap. Written in half an hour during the wee small hours of this morning, while insomnia was at full force. Reviews are muchly appreciated!

**I am human and I need to be loved  
Just like everybody else does**  
-Morrisey, 'How Soon Is Now?'

It is an unwritten law that Malfoys and Weasleys detest each other. It is common knowledge that this situation has been present for far longer than any living memory would care to remember.

This is why Draco starts to worry when he notices Ron more than would be considered healthy. This is why Draco is concerned that has started watching Ron when he sits alone, unshadowed by his two best friends. This is why Draco seriously considers committing himself to St. Mungo's when he muses on the different shades of red found in Ron's copper hair.

When Ron enters a room, it is all Draco can do not to stare. Grey eyes look up at the lithe figure through lowered lashes, eyes that are shames at even acknowledging the taller boy's presence.

When Draco finds himself set in the direct path of Ron's stride, he convinces himself that he is standing in the way to be an irritation. It is not for the fact that Ron will brush against Draco as he forces his way past. It is not for the fact that Ron's slim hips will be obliged to nudge against Draco's waist. It is not that Draco wants this contact, not at all.

Throughout their Potions lesson, Draco watches Ron, ashamed but unwilling to stop. Draco watches as Ron does his best to control his laughter over one of Harry's jokes while Professor Snape looms over them. Draco watches as a crooked grin highlights the sparkle in the mahogany eyes that Draco admires from afar. Draco tries not to think about tracing a pattern between the freckles that cover Ron's tanned skin, about trying to count the freckles covering Ron's long frame. Draco berates himself for even thinking about Ron's long frame.

Ron always seems to have the unshakeable feeling of being watched, he thinks as he lazily chops some mandrake root. But whenever Ron looks up and around, there is no one In his confusion, he frowns, and his eyes unconsciously settle on Draco. They've done this so many times that it's beginning to feel natural, studying the deceivingly angelic form standing a few cauldrons away.

Ron always seems to think about Draco, though he's never admit it, even if he were faced with Aragog. Ron wonders about Draco, his slightly-too-thin figure coupled with the fair hair and unusual grey eyes. Ron contemplates what it would be like to have those cool grey eyes look at him, desire him, understand him.

Ron will never understand Draco, not in a million years. Always so cold, hard, so strong but simultaneously so deceptively fragile. Ron ponders the merits of what it would be like to get to know the pale Slytherin, to find out what makes him tick, so to speak.

Draco and Ron wonder what it would be like to be with the other, in a way that didn't involve insults being flung carelessly, in a way that didn't end with curses and hexes. They wonder what the other is like when you got past the fiery temper, or past the icy cool exterior. They wonder what it would be like to kiss the other's soft lips, to feel the smooth skin under their fingertips. They wonder what it would be like to run their fingers through the other's hair. Strong freckled fingers tangled through white-blond; long pale ones linked through copper-red. Warmth and chill. Fire and ice. Griffindor and Slytherin.

Weasley and Malfoy.

The forbidden affinity.

As Ron watches Draco, Draco's eyes flicker upwards. Chocolate brown meets icy grey for a split second, and something of an understanding is passed, before both sets of eyes look deliberately away. Hermione scolds Ron for his lack of concentration. Draco barks orders at Crabbe and Goyle.

"Weasel,"

"Ferret,"

And all is as it should be, while two people continue the denial of their forefathers.


End file.
